


Two Plus Two

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jody remembers that Bobby used to be a better liar.  </p>
<p>And in retrospect, maybe he didn't answer the door for a reason?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Plus Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an SPN Kink Meme prompt that asked for Cas to get caught in the act with someone.

Jody Mills likes to think she’s as open minded as the next person. What folks do in their own house, on their own time, as long as there are no _serious_ laws getting broken – well, it’s their own damn business. She’s got no time to listen to Moira Baker complaining that young Nick likes to mow his lawn shirtless and _it’s just so inappropriate, Sheriff, to see him flaunting himself like that_. 

Especially as Moira can tell her almost to the minute just how much time he’s spent mowing said lawn sans shirt this month. She has a diary of it, or something. Jody’s seen Moira at her upstairs window, twitching the curtain, and caught a glimpse of what’s she’s pretty sure is a pair of binoculars. But if it helps Moira at the weekly spinsters’ bitch and stitch – where she’s sure there’s more bitching than stitching and most of it probably about her and how she should get herself back on the horse and stop doing a man’s job – to pretend how mortified she is by the display of fit young guy across the street….

In her grumpier moments, Jody amuses herself that Moira thinks Nick does it because he knows she’s watching, and it’s a precursor to him coming over one night and filling all her Harlequin inspired dreams. Of course, Moira doesn’t know that Nick is gay and screwing the guy who works at Sally’s, and Jody isn’t about to blab. 

She’s always been good at keeping secrets and this town has them in spades.

Bobby Singer probably being the biggest and the one that most days she just can’t get her head around.

But she owes him, the town owes him – even if most of them don’t know the times Bobby’s saved their asses and kept up his own late night patrol of the area to make sure nobody ends up drained or possessed or sacrificed. 

Bobby can look after himself like nobody else she knows, but he’s on his own out there mostly – those boys drop by but not as often as she thinks they should – so she makes it her business to check in regularly.

When he’s in a snippy mood, she tells him it’s in case he’s fallen in the bath or something and just grins when he glares at her.

A knock at the door brings no answer, but Bobby’s door is always open to her even when it’s shut, so she has no qualms with just striding in and heading through to the den.

“Well, fuck me,” she stammers out. 

There’s a guy stretched out on Bobby’s desk, dark hair mussed, white shirt open and shoved back off his shoulders. Bobby’s kneeling astride him, hands everywhere at once, touches urgent and near bruising.

He turns to see her standing there, and for one awkward moment that seems to just last and last, there’s a whole lot of silence and nothing much else.

Unless you count Bobby breathing like he’s just run around his yard a couple of times.

“He’s been cursed,” he blurts out suddenly. “Can’t find the damn marking!”

The guy under him hasn’t really paid her any attention, but he raises his head and fixes Bobby with the most honest to goodness befuddled look she’s ever seen.

“Ok, I’ll help,” she says, and starts forward, because curses are no joke and she really doesn’t want to help Bobby have to bury this poor guy out back if they don’t manage to save him.

“Uh, no, look, there it’s!” Bobby grins triumphantly at her, pressing one hand down on the guy’s shoulder and for some bizarre reason putting the other across his mouth. 

He babbles intently in Latin for a few minutes, and Jody watches him, wide eyed.

Finally, she says, “Can he breathe with you sitting on top of him and, you know, gagging him like that?”

Bobby snaps his gaze down to the guy beneath him, mutters what sounds like an apology and clambers off of him. The guy gets up smoothly and easily, and steps down off the desk though he still looks a little confused.

Bobby scoops up a trench coat and jacket, and a tie, from the floor. She guesses the guy must have been in some state when he got here for Bobby to just toss his clothes anywhere.

“So, you should be ok now, Mr…uh….” He looks desperately at the guy, and she has rarely seen him so flustered as he is now.

“Novak,” the guy says, and there’s a kind of edge to his voice that makes him sound a little pissed. Just because Bobby forgot his name? She would have thought he’d have more to worry about than introductions.

“Right. Just don’t go catching the eye of any more witches, ok? You get along, now.”

“How’d you get here, son?” she asks. The only vehicle out there – that isn’t rusting or propped up on bricks – is Bobby’s piece of crap pick up. “Do you need a lift back into town?”

Bobby jumps in before the guy can answer. “No! He’s…his car’s outside. Out back. Behind the barn.”

“He drove here cursed?”

“What you gonna do, Jody, cite him?”

She isn’t stupid – there’s something going on here that isn’t about saving some cute half naked guy from a curse. Hell, shoot her, she’s got eyes and a pulse.

But this is more like the time that Fed came sniffing around after Rufus and Bobby had to do some fast talking.

Thank the Almighty he was a lot better at it then than he’s doing just now.

Bobby passes the guy the rest of his clothes, and then she draws him aside. It takes a little effort to keep her eyes on Bobby rather than the guy as he gets dressed. Slowly, almost studiously. 

Shit, she’s turning in to Moira, and she forces herself to pretend he’s not in the room.

“Are you in something, right now, Bobby?” she asks. “Cos if you are, and I’m gonna have some stuffed shirt coming down here throwing his weight around and sticking his nose in to things…. A little warning is all I’m saying. Kinda hard to have your back if you’re keeping things from me.”

She glances pointedly over his shoulder at the guy. He’s pulling on the jacket and coat now. He looks down at the tie and then stuffs it in his pocket.

For some crazy reason, she feels the urge to go over and help him put it on. Weird.

Bobby glances back too. She can’t see his face, but the guy just nods and goes, just like that.

“I’m good, Jody,” Bobby tells her, once they’re alone again. She rarely sees him smile, but he is now. “Honest. You know I’d tell you if I had anything going on.”

She pats his shoulder. “Now, Bobby Singer. Why do I think you’re not being entirely honest with me?”

Jody casts a glance over the desk, and the fact that a blush spreads up from under Bobby’s beard tells her maybe not everything but enough.

The guy’s gone by the time she gets out, and there are no tyre tracks leading back to the barn, or away from it again.

Jody can’t help but wonder a little at the weirdness that goes on in Bobby Singer’s life, but the fact that he seemed…happy? 

That’s good enough for her.


End file.
